


The Gentlehobbit from Little Delving

by ElderberryWine



Series: 221B Bag End [8]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, lotr - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderberryWine/pseuds/ElderberryWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The affair at Raven Hall concludes, but Sam finds himself with more questions. Fortunately, Frodo gives the right response.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            Frodo Baggins has always had the capacity to amaze me, to astound me, to make me question as to whether I am befuddled, confuzzled, or merely in a permanent state of bewilderment.  But the day he sent word to me that he was to be found in the Michel Delving Lockholes, and I was not to do a thing about it, was one of the most memorable of those occasions.  But I am ahead of myself.  Here is how it all happened.

 

&&&&&

 

 

            The autumn had been sudden that year, and the first frost abrupt and intense.  We were in for a cold one, no mistake, and the thick winter coats of the squirrels and hares were an unnecessary confirmation of same.  I eyed the stack of wood in our shed and came to the rueful conclusion that it was lacking.  There’s nothing worse than being a cord or two short, when the snow drifts reach the window, and it would not do in the least to have Bag End be anything other than the snug and comfortable sanctuary it generally was during those frozen and bleak months.  In addition, there was my father, not to mention my sisters down the Row, to be thinking of, and so the matter became more pressing.  The snowfalls had not yet begun, and the rains were frigid but still infrequent, so I informed Baggins that I would be taking a quick trip to the woods to the north along with my brother-in-law Tom Cotton, as well as Ned Proudfoot and a team of his best hobbits, to fill a couple of sleds with the largest load of firewood that we could manage.  A long winter is much more manageable with a well-stocked woodshed, and I had an eye to making the gaffer’s equally as stocked as ours, not to mention the Cottons’ and the Widow’s sister’s, at the very least.

            So it was early in the morning when Tom, Ned and I, and his lads likewise, set out.  We planned on the Bottle and Bell, up Northfarthing way, to put us up for the night, and expected to be back the very next day, as we were.  But when I at last gratefully returned to Bag End with a plentiful supply of wood, Baggins was nowhere to be seen.  The Widow knew nothing of his whereabouts, and it was a fretful evening indeed, until at last, close to midnight, there was an unexpected rap on the door. 

            I had been, I must admit, pacing the hall, for there was no question of my going to bed until I knew what had become of my dearest friend.  So I flung the door open hastily, and found a small bedraggled hobbit there, one of the pack to whom Baggins referred, affectionately enough, as the Bag End Irregulars.

            “Dickon, lad, come on in!  What news, my dear lad, what news?”  I motioned the young hobbit in to the warmth of the hall.

            However, he shook his head reluctantly.  “Not to stay, sir,” he gave the snug room behind me a yearning glance.  “Need to be a’givin’ you this.”  His hand shot out from his soggy wrap with a grimy bit of folded paper.  “They well may be on my track, you know, and they can’t be a-seein’ me here.  Evening, Master Gamgee.”  And with another quick bob, he was instantly lost into the dark damp night.

            I had no time to quite grasp what he had said, however, as I hastened back to the warmth and bright light of the study, the better to examine the missive I held in my hands, for I was certain beyond any doubt that it was welcome word from Baggins.

            From Baggins, it was indeed, but not as comforting as I had hoped.  “Gamgee,” it read, in his familiar scrawling hand.  “As you have undoubtedly noticed, I am not at home at the present.  Instead, I am currently in residence at the Michel Delving Lockholes, not without reason, I assure you.  As accommodations are a trifle austere, I would be ever so grateful if it would strike you to check on the general welfare of the unfortunates located here, and bring some blankets with you in doing so.  I have no doubt, my dear, but that you will recognize me, and I hasten to reassure you that I am not nearly as wretched as I hope to appear.  We may not have much of a chance to chat then, but it would be a rare pleasure to see you, my very dearest Gamgee.  Your very own Frodo, who yearns for his own bed, and all that may be found within it, and who is extraordinarily glad Dickon never learned his letters.”

            Certainly that answered some questions, but posed so very many others.  It was a long and restless night, tired as I had been, and I was on my way early the next morning, with Tom Cotton’s cart, and several bundles in the back.

 

&&&&&

 

 

            Fortunately, I had treated the eldest fauntling of a prominent Michel Delving family for spotted fever just a few weeks prior, so it was not entirely unexpected that I should make an appearance to check up on the lad.  Without a doubt, my unexpected and flurried visit flustered his mother, Goodwife Boggs, no end, and delighted the young imp a great deal, since he had not forgotten my bag of boiled sweets.  However, that was all immaterial to me.  The hasty visit having been concluded, I immediately made my way to the Lockholes.

            I paused a moment in the chill wind and stared at the grim barred door, an entrance that had been dug into the hillside during times long past any living soul’s memory, and had a quick guilty thought that perhaps I should make a habit of attending on the poor unfortunates here from time to time without the inducement of seeing Frodo.  In truth, the place was empty more often than not, but the startled Shirriff assured me, as I made my way within to inquire as to the welfare of its occupants, that there were presently two souls in residence, and he would be that pleased if I’d see to the reedier of the pair.

            Both captives were sharing the shabby chamber, but the Shirriff, upon entering with myself in tow, gave a meaningful nod in the direction of the sturdier of the two, and motioned that he should follow him out to the adjoining room, and allow myself some privacy with my patient.  And indeed, as I had no doubt, it was Baggins in rags, huddled under a cloak on the make-shift cot in the far corner of the chill rude chamber.  I hastened to his side to hear him mutter nearly inaudibly, “Wait until they have left, Gamgee.  Have a care, my dear.”

            Following his lead with some impatience, I laid down my bundle of thick woolen blankets and opened my bag with a good deal of fuss as I knelt at his side.  “Good heavens, my dear fellow, that is a nasty cough, indeed!  Let us have a look, then.”

            Quickly picking up his cue, Baggins gave a wrenching hawk that caused me to quickly stifle a laugh.  Being as he never given any indication of such a complaint the night before last, I had no doubt whatsoever in regards to its fraudulence.  It was entirely effective, however, and the Shirriff and his captive immediately vanished, not without a stifled oath.

            “Frodo, me dear,” I murmured as his distinctive gaze turned to me in his begrimed face, “what sort of playacting is all this?  What, by our Lady, are you doing here?”

            “In a moment, my dearest of Gamgees, but right now, there is a much more urgent matter. . .” and without another word, he swept me into his arms and gave me an impetuous yet loving kiss.  “There, my dear, I just had to take advantage of the moment,” he gave me a rather diffident smile as we broke apart.  “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you, my love.  Has it really been only two nights?  Well, then, to the matter at hand.”

            “I’ve been asked to look into this matter by Mayor Whitfoot himself,” he continued, suddenly serious.  “His smial was broken into three nights ago.  Nothing valuable was taken, as far as he could tell, but his admittedly rather neglected library appeared to be ransacked, and he could not be entirely sure if a book had not been taken.  The next night, the Mathom House was burglarized, and it was there that our good Shirriff Stoutfoot apprehended my present lodging companion.  There is some doubt as to what was taken there, but as the miscreant appeared to be a gentlehobbit from parts unknown, the Mayor thought to retain my services to puzzle this matter out.  I have presented myself to my present companion as a common thief in hopes of acquiring a patron.  At this point, it would appear to require an additional night or two in this dismal location to gain his trust, and I’m really not sure if I can manage it, my dearest Gamgee.  My patience with this sort of job has grown dismally short, when I consider the alternatives.”

            “There, now, Frodo love, you know how you were pacing the floor from sheer boredom only a few days prior to this,” I couldn’t help but smile at his impatience.  “You have very nearly finished outlining the map of the West Farthing with your darts on our study wall, you know.  Give it one more day at least, me dear, and we’ll make up for lost time once you’re back.”

            “I might manage one more night here, I suppose,” he murmured, giving me a sudden piercing glance that caused me to immediately rethink the advice I had just given him, “but that really is the limit, Sam.”

            “Very well, then, whatever suits you, me dear,” I mumbled with a doubtlessly foolish smile, as I grasped his hands tightly and entirely unprofessionally.  “I leave that decision entirely in your hands.  Your most capable hands, I might add.”

            But suddenly realizing our time together must necessarily be short, Baggins became completely business-like again and urgently muttered, “Make a visit to the bookseller on Broad Street, Gamgee.  See if there is a book that has suddenly come into his possession without his knowledge.  I rather suspect there is one.”

            “On one condition, Baggins my love,” I tightened my grasp just slightly.  “You need an accomplice.  Conjure up any improbable role for me you wish, me dear, but I’ll feel much better about this whole matter if I’m tagging along.”

            “As will I,” he gave me a sudden decidedly impudent smile.  “Very well, then, Gamgee.  I’ll thank you to remember that you have brought this entirely on yourself.”

            There is no telling where the conversation would have headed at that point, but for the sound of the Shirriff and the other prisoner making their way back to the cell.  With another wracking cough, Baggins quickly relapsed into the decrepit specimen that I had found when I had first arrived.  I did not stay much longer, after lavishing my gifts of the cord of firewood, as well as the kettle and canister of tea that I had brought, on both prisoners.  I had no further words after that with Baggins, but just before I left I could have sworn that he gave me a slow wink along with a quick smile.

 

&&&&&

 

 

            I made a visit to the booksellers, as Baggins had wished, and not at all to my surprise, found a volume stuffed, spine facing inwards, on the small rack that was generally trundled out beside the door, to lure potential customers within.  It was an unprepossessing and drab book entitled _Lore of the West: A General History of the West Farthing and an Accounting of Its Most Prominent Families with Their Connections with Other Prominent Families Throughout the Shire, as Told to The Author by Those Listed Within._   It appeared to be irredeemably dreary, as I glanced through it, but there really is no accounting for tastes, as I learned long ago.  The proprietor gave it a puzzled glance, as if he couldn’t quite place it when I paid for it, but accepted my coin quickly enough.

            I was undeniably curious as to what this volume had to do with Baggins and myself, as well as his mysterious co-captive.  There were no answers for the present, and I had to resign myself to making my way through the frosty evening air back to Bag End, and spending a long impatient night awaiting further word from the hobbit I loved.

 

&&&&&

 

 

            The next morning, quite early, there was a quick scrawl delivered by a furtive Dickon.  It was obvious that the note had been written in haste.  “Most likely will arrive tomorrow morning,” it read.  “Have a bag packed with the necessities for the both of us for a fortnight.  The shabbier the better.  Ever yours.”

            Eagerly, I gulped down my second breakfast and put together just such a pack for myself and Baggins as well.  The grey morning was promising a damp mizzle all day, and it had been quite cold the night before, so I decided that warmth was equally as essential as shabbiness.  Fortunately, neither Baggins, nor myself, was much for luxury, so it was a relatively easy task.  I packed traveling provisions and pipeweed as well, and did not forget the essential teapot.

            But that only occupied the morning.  The Widow had been accounted for, as I had informed her that Baggins and myself would be absent for a week or two, and it might be the ideal time in which to visit her sister.  She was accustomed to not inquiring further regarding our unaccountable disappearances, and the dark grey clouds hovering on the horizon caused her to make up her mind promptly.  She was gone shortly after luncheon.

            So that left me alone in Bag End and with so very many hours during which to roam the smial impatiently, and wait.  With nothing else in particular with which to occupy myself, I picked up the volume I’d bought from the bookseller, settled down by the fire in the study with a steaming pot of tea, and gave it another perusal.

            The author, as far as I could see, first ventured forth with some generalities regarding the history of the West Farthing, not forgetting the ancient connection with Annuminas, throne city of the Kings of the West of distant memory, and then got down to his principal business, which was the enumeration of every possible Took and connection thereof that he could find.  I had no idea that Baggins’ cousin’s family had been so prolific.  Fair put the Gamgees to shame.

            But I could only consider so many illustrious family connections before my eyes begin to droop, the volume slipped from my grasp, and it must not have been long thereafter that I fell into a sound slumber.

            Apparently, it must have lasted for most of the afternoon, as I found myself awakening to a dark smial, with the fire very nearly out, and Baggins’ lips on my forehead.  “Frodo!” I exclaimed with delight as I suddenly blinked myself awake, and threw my arms about his neck.  It was a certain amount of time before I drew back and tried to query him.

            But he was having none of it at the moment.  “Later, my dear, later,” he murmured with a warm smile.  “We must leave early in the morning and I will fill you in on the details before then.  But until that time, my opinion regarding my bed and what might be found therein still stands.”

            However, enticing as that thought was, I could feel him still shivering slightly from the frigid night, and my healer’s instincts were abruptly aroused.  “Nothing sounds more gratifying, my dearest Baggins, but if we are to be off at such an unconscionable hour, I must insist on a hot bath and a hearty meal afore hand.  Strictly speaking as your healer, of course.”

            Weary as he obviously was, Baggins gave a pleased chuckle at my prescription, and murmured, “I’d never dream of disputing your wisdom, Gamgee.  I leave myself entirely in your expert care.”

            Nothing could prompt me into instant action faster than that statement, and even more the look that accompanied it, so I jumped to my feet, had a hot bath drawn in no time at all, and left him soaking blissfully in same as I hurried to the kitchen to see to a quick meal.  Soon he was well wrapped in a robe at my side at the kitchen table, tucking eagerly into a pile of roasted potatoes, fried apples, cheese toast, and as many cups of steaming tea as any hobbit could ever wish for.

            “I see you found the volume every bit as ponderous as I supposed it would be,” he mentioned at last, his mouth only still slightly full of potato.  “And that was the correct volume, I might add.  Excellent work, Gamgee.”

            “It had been shoved in amongst the others with its spine in,” I knew my eartips were reddening at his praise, and distracted myself with pouring another mug of tea.  “But start at the beginning, my love, I am entirely at a loss here.”

            “That would be best, would it not?” Baggins pushed himself away from the table and the thoroughly emptied dishes.  “I noticed the Widow is not in residence, so perhaps we should soak these?  I do hate to have her justifiably take us to task.  But a pipe would be just the thing right now, and would help me present the facts to you.

            “Of course it would,” I laughed, knowing his habits so well.  “Well, you might as well stir up the fire in the study, if it hasn’t gone out already, and I’ll rinse these in no time.”

            I found Frodo, long legs stretched out and toes to the fire, puffing meditatively on his pipe, as soon as I entered the study.  “Here are the facts as I now have them, Samwise,” he began as he stared into the fire and I sat at his side and drew out my own pipe.  “The Shirriff stopped by not long after you had left, and mentioned that they had pinched a gentlehobbit a’burglin’ the Mathom House, to use his exact phrase.  Not at all coincidentally, the Mayor’s own smial had been thoroughly gone through as well, at least the room he named as his library.  All the contents were left in absolute disarray, but he could not be entirely sure that anything was missing.  It would appear that the Mayor’s father was the scholar, not the Mayor himself, but he seemed to recollect a largish green leather book that he could not find, the very same volume that sent you so completely into the land of dreams this afternoon.  When my cellmate was apprehended, it seemed to both the Mayor and the Sherriff that such an unusual crime wave must have had the same cause, and I have no doubt but they are correct as to that.  The both of them thought to call me in, since I have an interest in such affairs, and better yet, certain connections with other gentlehobbits.  The captive was loudly proclaiming his innocence, needless to mention, despite having been caught in a decidedly dodgy position, and making no end of threats regarding their positions, which of course made the both of them extremely nervous.  We agreed that I should enter the scene in the guise of a common criminal and see if Basil Longleaf, as he names himself, would take the bait.  And indeed he has, as I am to meet him at the Rat and Squirrel, a rather dubious inn at the crossroads of the Western Road and Michel Delving High Street, at sunset tomorrow.  I have told him that I have an invaluable assistant, for larger jobs, and he requested that I bring him along as well.”

            I could not help but raise an amused eyebrow at that news.  “Burglar’s assistant, you say?  Well, I suppose I can manage that.”

            “Better yet,” he turned to me with what could not be described as anything other than an impish grin.  “You are also quite mute, I’m afraid.  Can’t utter a word.  Thought it’d be best that way.  At least we won’t have to worry about discrepancies in our stories.”

            “Baggins!  You never did tell him that!” I couldn’t help but laugh.  “Well, I suppose that will make it easier, but really!”

            “And I believe you will appreciate our alias,” he continued his grin widening.  “You have the honor of smoking a pipe with Tobias Sandyman.  And I am indeed delighted to be joined by my cousin, Bart Sandyman.”

            “Mind you,” he added, suddenly serious again, “Someone posted bond for Longleaf and myself.  The Shirriff said it was a hobbit who had kept his cloak well over his face, and gave no name.”

            I said nothing, but there was something about this whole business that I did not care for at all.

 

&&&&&

 

 

            And finally we did retire for the night.  At long last, we found ourselves in our great feather bed, and lost ourselves once more in the delight that we found in each other.  It was only as he started to reach out to pinch out the guttering candle, that he stopped and gave me a long look, drawing his hand back and running it tenderly down the side of my face. “I never thought to find such joy as this, my most beloved Samwise,” he spoke softly.  “Life is uncertain and events may be unexpected, but whatever may befall us, always know that I have loved you with all my heart, and with all I have to give.”

            “All you have to give is all I have ever wanted, Frodo my love,” I breathed, his hands tightly held to my heart.  “As long as I can find you in my arms every night, nothing else matters to me at all.  You may explain the particulars of this whole affair to me once more tomorrow morning, my dear, but for tonight, all I ask is that you hold me close and kiss me yet again.  Let tomorrow take care of itself; somehow it always does.”

            Words were few after that point, but I fell asleep sheltered against his lean frame, enclosed in his love, and supremely happy.

 

&&&&&

 

 

            We left Bag End before dawn on a frosty morning.  The one consideration that caused Baggins a moment’s pause, however, was the fate of the green-bound volume that had caused all this fuss.  “Certainly we cannot have it found on our persons, as much as I might wish to study it carefully.  And equally so, I would not have it found in Bag End.   Any suggestions, Gamgee?”

            “The tool shed,” I responded promptly.  “It can easily be hidden there, even though I’d wager no one would ever think of looking for it there in the first place.”

            “Capital suggestion!” he exclaimed with an approving nod.  “Very well, then, I’ll leave you to take care of that, and it’s past time we set off.  We shall have to step out smartly to meet our employer at the appointed time, and I hope you realize that I hold you and your very many charms entirely responsible for that.”

            “I do try my very best to please,” I could not help but murmur, very nearly coyly, and with his characteristic laugh, he gave me a quick hug as we made our way down the glinting icy lane.

            “And please you do, my dearest Gamgee, like no other hobbit ever has.  But we must, alas, turn our attentions to this Longleaf fellow for the moment, and return to the subject of your allures at a later date.  And rest quite assured, Gamgee, my love, I will do exactly that.”

            “I will consider that a promise,” I breathed, and in the solitude of the frigid morning reached out and grasped his hand quite firmly.  His hand closed about mine, and it wasn’t until we reached the outskirts of Michael Delving that our hands fell reluctantly apart.

 

&&&&&

 

 

            The Rat and Squirrel was, as Baggins had promised, a dubious inn indeed.   It was dug into an ancient hummock at the side of the Western Road, and the entrance was sheltered by a thatched covering which the years and elements had rendered feeble shelter indeed.  Smoke issued from a hole in the side of the hill, rather than a more substantial chimney, and everything visible about the establishment was grey, and irreparably dreary.

            However, the afternoon light, faint as it had been, was fading, the evening was showing signs of becoming cold and frosty in the extreme, and my toes had lost all feeling about a mile back.  It was not a welcoming hostelry, to be sure, but at this point I was quite willing to take my chances with any sort of ruffian the Rat and Squirrel might present to us for the chance of a hot meal, a foaming pint, and a dry floor on which to sleep.  It was fortunate my expectations were not high, for the meal proved to be utterly tasteless, the brew well below Hobbiton standards, and the floor was clammy.  More important than all these disappointments, however, was the hobbit who met us there.

            Basil Longleaf sat alone at a table to the back of the crowded common room.  An empty plate and a half-filled mug indicated that he had been waiting for us, as did the glower that greeted Baggins and myself as we entered.  Baggins, in his guise as a lowly petty thief, immediately made his way to Longleaf, tugging me along by the corner of my cloak.

            “Apologies, good sir,” he murmured, giving a quick bow to Longleaf.  “It took longer to find me cousin than I thought.”  Following Baggins’ lead, I gave a quick bob as well, but remained silent.

            The glower turned to my direction.  “Don’t say much, does he?” he grunted finally.

            “Can’t,” Baggins explained succinctly.  “Mute, he is.  The best kind of co-conspirator, eh?  But he’s strong and able, and he’ll do anything for ‘is old cousin, won’t he?” he added, throwing an arm about my shoulder.

            I nodded enthusiastically, silently congratulating Baggins for thinking of this dodge.  I had to admit I was not much of an actor, but this role I might be able to manage.

            Longleaf grunted once again, and then pointed to the seats next to him but did not, I noticed, offer us anything in the way of refreshment.  “I want the both of you to do a bit of work for me Hobbiton way,” he finally muttered, taking another swig from his mug.  “I understand that you are from the part of the Shire, but I would expect that not a word of this will be shared.  After all, those who posted bond for the both of us are very powerful, I can assure you, and they would not take kindly at all to their business being spread about.”

            “You may rely entirely on me, good sir,” Baggins ducked his head humbly.  “I’d still be in those nasty lockholes if it ain’t been for you.  And as for my cousin, well, you ain’t got nothing to worry about him”

            He gave us another sharp look, and I tried to look as cowed as possible.  I had no doubts that he would be an ugly customer if crossed, and at the moment, Baggins’ mission was more important than our pride.

            “There’s a couple of things I want,” he continued, lowering his voice, although it appeared to me that the other patrons were paying no attention to us.  “I’ll tell you more tomorrow before you leave.  Even in a place like this, one can’t be too careful.  I expect your job to be completed by three nights from tonight.  I will meet you here at that time”

            Although this did not seem to be sufficient information, Baggins refrained from asking any questions but nodded deferentially and I, of course, did the same.  “One more word,” he lowered his voice even more, but the menacing look he gave us suddenly made my blood run cold.  “I would not advise failing in your mission.  Those who disappoint my friends tend to have accidents.  Nasty painful fatal accidents.  Your only chance to quit this business is right now.  Let me know if that is your choice, and that will be the end of our acquaintance.”

            I must confess I was actually hoping that Baggins would see reason here and agree, but of course he did not.  It was, rather, as if the fellow had presented catnip to the hearth cat.  His expression remained passive and timid, but I could sense the slightest quiver of excitement, and knew the game was, indeed, afoot.

 

&&&&&

 

            Longleaf retired shortly thereafter to a private room, something I would not have credited this inn as having.  Baggins and I finished our meager meal, which was all that could be purchased, and unenthusiastically sipped the house brew.  The other patrons, a surly crowd, eyed us suspiciously and we returned the favor.  However, Longleaf’s patronage was sufficient to keep any of them from bothering us or even speaking to us for that matter, and after an hour or so, some customers left, and the rest of us curled up on the dank muddy floor, and tried our best to sleep.  Baggins and I did not attempt to lie near what was left of the guttering fire, but found a secluded back corner.

            I very nearly forgot my character then, not to mention all the questions I to ask him being on my mind, but Baggins fortunately foresaw that, and with a flash of a smile, laid a finger to my lips.  “Not here, my dear,” he murmured very quietly.  “I do not trust any hobbit here.  But tomorrow will be quite interesting indeed, and we need to get what rest we can.”

            I knew he was right, so I sighed, closed my eyes, and tried my best to follow his example.  But it was a very long and tedious night.

 

&&&&&

 

 

            The next morning, first breakfast consisted of a dry heel of bread and a bit of unmistakably moldy cheese.  Longleaf issued from his room shortly after a tray with a far more sumptuous breakfast had been deferentially left at his door.  Wiping a last bit of sausage from his lips, he motioned to us, as he passed, and indicated the front door.

            Snow had begun to fall, as we stepped outside, and a sharp wind blew from the north.  If we were to go anywhere today, the time to begin would be now, and even Longleaf seemed to have a sense of urgency.  “It’s Tooks I’m interested in,” he muttered harshly, producing a pipe from his pocket.  “I hear tell there’s one Hobbiton way, although he doesn’t go by that name.  It’s your job to find him.  There’s two things I want.  A large green leather-bound book and a weskit of a silvery nature.  These are the articles that you must produce in three days’ time.  And I will remind you again that you are both now in my employ, and that my colleagues and I do not take failure at all kindly.  Good day.”  And with that abrupt threat, he turned and re-entered the inn, leaving us to stare at each other in the swirl of snow.

            “Correct me if I’m wrong, Frodo,” and I am not at all sure that my voice was steady, “but I believe we’ve just been hired to burgle ourselves.”


	2. Chapter 2

            I stretched luxuriously against the warm backside next to mine, and cracked a wary eye open.  Last night’s icy rain had turned into soft flakes floating, in the grey morning light, past our bedroom window.  Winter had at last arrived, and there was no better place in which to greet it than in our great feather bed snug in the heart of Bag End.  To be sure, there was that business of Longleaf’s task to be dealt with, but two days seemed such a very long way off, and I turned to embrace those delectable curves, tucking my nose against the back of Baggins’ neck and wrapping a loving arm about his waist.

            Baggins stirred at this, grunting sleepily and clasping my arm firmly against his waist.  He was soon fast asleep again, but I lay in a perfect state of bliss, drowsily marveling at the allure of warm smooth skin next to mine and the irresistible appeal of the sturdy grasp of a strong arm about one’s own.  I really do not consider myself a sentimental sort in the least, but the thought flitted through my mind that this moment was perfect happiness indeed, and there was nothing to be gained by ever getting out of bed again.  On that note, I was soon once again asleep.

 

&&&&&

 

            My slumbers must have been profound, for the next thing I knew was the enticing aroma of a fresh pot of tea, and the absence of a comforting body next to mine.  That body was not far off, however, for when I reluctantly cracked an eye open once again, I found Baggins seated, wrapped in a warm robe, on a chair next to the bed, and a delightfully laden tray on the bed between the both of us.

            “I thought that might bring you around,” he chuckled comfortably as I raised myself into a sitting position, yawning and rubbing my eyes.  “You might want to throw this about your shoulders, my dear,” he continued, tossing me my own robe, “I’ve only just got the fire started.”

            “Now then,” he handed me a cup of tea and pushed the plate of honeyed toast in my direction.  “We’ve got quite a puzzle to consider.  I think you hit it exactly on point, back at the Rat and Squirrel, Sam dear.  We’ve been hired to burgle ourselves, or more precisely, I would surmise, myself.”

            I munched contemplatively on my nicely done bit of toast, and considered that point, as well as the way in which the early morning sunlight, even faint as it was, always seemed to pick up the russet highlights in Baggins’ dark curls.  I must admit my thoughts were fairly equally divided between the two subjects when he suddenly sat up a trifle straighter, and exclaimed, “But why would he think the book was to be found here when he left in behind at the booksellers’ himself?”

            I paused mid-chew, and contemplated that question.  “Perhaps there are two such books?” I hazarded, and was relieved when Baggins gave me a quick smile.

            “Precisely what I was thinking, my dear Gamgee,” he answered decisively, abruptly standing and turning towards the window.  “He only had a brief opportunity to examine the volume, but found that it was not what had been requested.  Thus, the offering left with the bookseller.  But for some reason, he believes that I, or more likely Bilbo, have a similar item here, perhaps a companion volume.  In addition, I might add, to the silvery weskit.”

            “Wasn’t that something Bilbo brought back from the dwarves?” I asked, ransacking my foggiest of memories as I continued to make headway on the toast.  “Whatever became of it?”

            Baggins frowned.  “Last I heard, he’d left it with the Mathom House in Michael Delving.  But that was burgled by our co-conspirator as well, so obviously it was no longer there.  Be that as it may, it certainly isn’t here.  The book, however, just might be.”  He sat back down on the chair at my side and poured himself another cup.

            “And why is he asking for a Took?” I brought up one of the other questions that had bothered me the day before, as I reached for another piece of toast.  Baggins did have a fine hand with toast, as it was always perfectly light and crisp.

            “Yes, that was odd, wasn’t it?”  Baggins’ cup had stopped suddenly on its way to his mouth.  “I suppose either Bilbo or myself could plausibly be referred to as Tooks, but I must admit no one has ever used that name before in referring to me.”

            “He seemed to come from the west, if you’d ask me,” I added, with a swallow of tea.  “Leastways, that’s where I’d peg his burr.  Plenty of Tooks in those parts.”

            “And nary a Baggins,” Baggins agreed thoughtfully.  “It is a bit odd, however, for our employer, or those who employ him, to be so careless about a name.  From my brief glance through it, the volume hidden at the moment in the tool shed seemed to consist for the most part of Took family history.”

            “Then we’d best be having another look at it,” I finished off the last of my tea, and threw off the bedclothes.  “Snow doesn’t look to be stopping any time soon, so may as well get it out now rather than later.”

            “Excellent point, Gamgee.  This promises to be a curious case indeed.”

 

&&&&&

 

 

            I tossed the snowy cloak aside, with which I had covered the volume on its journey back from the toolshed, and laid it out on the small table in front of the settle in the study.  “So, Baggins,” I prompted him, making myself comfortable on the settle next to him and tucking my frosty toes under a blanket.  “What do you make of it?”

            Characteristically, he examined the exterior of the volume in the greatest of detail before opening it.  “Definitely of a certain age, fifty years old, to say the least,” he muttered, more to himself than me.  “Not a local printer.  West Farthing, I’d wager.  Thick sturdy paper, must have been a printing of some importance.  Peculiar texture though, a bit more water reed than the norm.  Once again, West Farthing, and not far from the Water.  And now for the content.”

            Silence settled comfortably about us as he slowly turned the pages.  The hearth fire crackled merrily, though, and my gaze wandered from the lightly falling snow as seen from our round window, to the dull green leather of the book in Baggins’ hands to, inevitably, Baggins’ sharp profile, which was the finest sight to be found in the room, in my personal opinion.  I was dreamily contemplating the most elegant eartip it has ever been my pleasure to nuzzle, when he abruptly shut up the book, and with a sigh, reached for his pipe.

            “Simply a collection of family lore,” he muttered, getting up and walking over to the fire for a light.  “Nothing but what could be found in any gentlehobbit’s library.”

            “But of which family?”

            “Tooks.  Nothing but Tooks,” he murmured, staring thoughtfully out the window.  “I suppose that does include, in a sort of roundabout way, Bilbo and myself, but it is curious that the Baggins and for that matter, the Brandybuck strain is apparently immaterial.  In fact,” he added, his gaze sweeping the room, “I would not be entirely surprised if the answer did not lie within this room.  I hate to be a dull fellow, Gamgee, but I suspect I’ll be occupied this afternoon.”

            “In that case,” I rose to my feet as well, “I shall make a visit to Number Three, and make sure that all is well there.  Winter has most definitely arrived, and I would like to check on the gaffer’s woodpile.  He certainly won’t tell me if it’s likely to run short, but I’d never hear the last of it from Daisy, no mistake.”

 

&&&&&

 

 

            I returned to Bag End well after tea time.  In addition to replenishing the woodpile, a slow drip from the roof had apparently developed in the back storeroom, and that would never do, since the winter’s stockpile of potatoes and carrots, not to mention the parsnips, turnips, and rutabagas, were all at the weather’s mercy unless the leak was to be located and remedied.  That involved the laborious process of my climbing up the snowy hill above, clearing off as much of the snow as I could, and pouring water from the bucket I had dragged up with me in various locations until I heard the triumphant cry of Daisy below.  Once the leak was located, it was merely a matter of carefully patching it up with a board and handfuls of frigid mud until there was no further chance of losing the winter’s precious supplies.  All in all, it took no more than four or five hours to repair, at the quite real risk of frostbite in both my hands and toes, but the enthusiastic hug I received from my elder sister, and the amiable nod of approval from the gaffer quite made up for it all.  Not to mention, of course, the pair of warm loaves with which I made my way back home.

            There was no time to explain my unexpected delay in returning, for I found Baggins in a characteristically distracted state, a certain sign that he had made progress in our case.  “You were quite right, Gamgee,” he exclaimed, hurrying up the hall, as I wearily entered the smial, and stamped the snow off of my feet.

            “I’m sure I was,” I replied in amused befuddlement, as I unwound my knitted scarf and hung my snow-soaked cloak on one of the hooks next to the round door.  “You must tell me all about it once my ears are thawed out enough to hear the details.”

            “By the Lady, it is late, isn’t it?”  He gave a surprised glance out of the entry hall window.  “You must have been gone all day.”

            “Matter of fact, I have been,” I muttered, heading down the hall to the kitchen, Baggins behind me.  “Mucking about in the snow all day, no less.  Just give me a moment to start up a pot of tea, and then I’ll be more than glad to hear all your news.  Like as not, you’ve had nothing to eat all day likewise.”

            “Well, perhaps not,” he answered from behind me, slightly defensively, “but I’m not completely useless, you know.  The Widow may have left us to our own devices, but I can manage tea, and tuck a few potatoes into the coals to roast for supper.  You go on to the study and dry yourself out, and I’ll join you soon enough.”

            That was an argument I could not resist, and so not long after I was once again wrapped in a warm rug in front of the fire, sipping a mug of hot tea.  “Now then,” I prompted Baggins.  “This discovery you mentioned.”

            “The volume which our erstwhile confederate left in the bookseller’s shop was apparently the first volume, and after a rather extended search, I located the second volume in Bilbo’s collection.”  Baggins triumphantly produced a dark green twin to the book that I had hidden in the toolshed and laid both in front of me on a small table before the settle.  He then produced his pipe from his jacket pocket and lit it with rather a flourish.  “The initial volume starts with Bullroarer Took, and the second, which was published much more recently, continues to the current older generation of Tooks, namely, Paladin Took.  And curiously enough, Bilbo.  Despite the Brandybuck and Baggins’ strains, the author seemed to consider him a Took through and through.”

            “Not Pippin then?”  I gratefully curled my still chilled fingers around the hot mug.

            “No, Paladin is mentioned, but only as an infant.  No mention of Esmeralda either.  I doubt if that would please her.”

            “So little does,” I murmured.  Some of my experiences with the Brandybucks had been less than cordial, a matter I could not blame in the least on Merry and Saradoc.

            Baggins gave me a wry smile and then continued.  “It’s not all family trees though.  There are various tales, fables really, and an amazing amount of doggerel.  Why anyone would go to great lengths to lay their hands on either volume is still a puzzle that I have not yet solved.  So the question which is laid before us is whether or not we should deliver either of these books to Longleaf tomorrow before their true worth is known to us.”

            “And what of the silvery weskit?” I prompted him.  “That is certainly nowhere to be found.”

            “Yes, and that is most curious,” Baggins leaned back next to me on the settle and steepled his fingers as he characteristically did when he was most lost in thought.  “I remember Bilbo mentioning such an item as a souvenir that he had picked up during his adventure with the dwarves.  I was quite sure that he had donated it to the Mathom House in Michael Delving, but apparently it is no longer there.  I certainly do not know of anyone who expressed an interest in it, so its whereabouts are, and will probably remain, a mystery.  But we must have something to produce for our anxious employer, for I would not care at all for him to venture to Hobbiton to continue the search for himself.”

            “So you think the book will be enough?”

            “Time will tell,” he turned to me with a warm smile.  “But since tomorrow will find us on the icy road to Little Delving, I suggest that we partake of those potatoes that I tucked into the coals, as well as the loaf I noticed your sister so kindly provided.  A bit of Old Winyards would not go amiss, I suspect, but since we must be off early in the morning, the rest of the evening might be more profitably utilized.”

            He had a most excellent point, I had to admit, and it was late indeed when we finally curled together in sleep.

 

&&&&&

 

 

            We found ourselves near the dilapidated Rat and Squirrel early the following afternoon, for Baggins had prudently thought to rent ponies in Hobbiton.  “It’s an extravagance, to be sure,” he explained to me, as we rode the snowy roads out from Michael Delving, “but I suppose we can insinuate that we borrowed them without leave, so to speak.  I would prefer, to put it bluntly, that we should be able to make our exit with all haste, if necessary.  And by the way, Gamgee, it’s Pippin’s smial to which we should head ourselves, if matters begin to look dodgy, and not Bag End.  Tooks appear to be the crux of the whole matter, after all, and I suspect we would be quite safe at the Grand Smials.”

            I nodded shortly, brushing the tumbling snow out of my face and trying my best to ignore the sudden chill of apprehension.  “But then I’m the dull and silent fellow, so I’ll just follow your lead,” I muttered, pulling up the pony’s bridle.

            “You don’t mind that, do you, Sam?”  Baggins gave me a sudden piercing glance.  “It’s just that if they pay no mind to you, you will be able to see what I can’t, and I’m counting on that.”

            “Of course I don’t mind, my dear Baggins,” I couldn’t help but to give him a sudden warm smile.  “Otherwise I’d be sure to put my foot in it, anyroad.”

            “Not likely,” Baggins murmured, pulling up beside me and, laying a gentle hand on my arm, gave me a suddenly penetrating look.  “Your instincts are invaluable to me, Gamgee, my dear.  This case possibly may prove more dangerous than not, and I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather rely on than you.”

            “Of course you may rely on me, my dearest Baggins,” I murmured, feeling suddenly quite moved.  “All you need do, all you ever need do, is but to ask.”

            His expression softened at my words and a tender smile quickly lit up his lean face.  “A treasure you are indeed, my beloved Sam,” he murmured quietly, and then quickly straightened up in his saddle.  “Prepare yourself, Gamgee, I expect our stay to be no less delightful the second time than the first.”

 

&&&&&

 

 

            I found myself amazed, as always, at Baggins’ sudden transformation as we entered the inn.  In an instant, he was bent and ill-shapened, and a full three inches shorter than I knew him to actually be.  Put together with the change in his voice, and I know that not even his own cousins would have recognized him. I myself was incapable of such an altered appearance, but I put a stolid and dimwitted expression on my face.  Judging by the other occupants of the inn, however, I was not alone in this regard, and the completion in this particular field appeared to be somewhat fierce.

            Baggins made his way to the bar, as all conversation within the seedy establishment immediately became hushed, and gruffly inquired as to Longleaf’s whereabouts.

            “He comes and goes,” the proprietor favored us both with a grunt.  “He’ll be findin’ you as he wishes, no doubt.  And is there any refreshment you’d care to be havin’ whilst you wait?”

            “That beer as you had last time’d taste fine indeed,” Baggins grunted, dropping a few coins on the greasy counter.  With a jerk of his head in my direction, he turned to make his way to an empty table in the back of the half-filled room.  I followed slowly, with an occasional limp.  The more helpless I seemed now, was my theory, the less they’d be watching me.  Indeed, Baggins seemed to receiving most of the unenthusiastic attention from the room, and I might have well been a piece of baggage.  I had no complaints whatsoever in that regard.  With a sigh and a groan, Baggins collapsed heavily into a chair, back to the wall I might add, and dropped his pack only slightly ostentatiously at his side.  I fell in next to him, and graced the room with my most vacant stare, taking care to leave my mouth slightly ajar.  We were indeed a pretty pair.

            The average patron had been rather elderly when we had first arrived, but I noticed, as we nursed our mediocre brew, the room was beginning to fill up with younger and more robust customers.  It was clear that Baggins had noticed as well, and I felt him lean a little closer to me, and unobtrusively lay his hand on my knee under the table, implying that it would be well to act, if needs be, at a moment’s notice.  And indeed, it wasn’t much longer before Longleaf himself pushed his way through a back door, a pair of particularly large and especially thick hobbits at his side, and the trio made its way to our table.

            With a grunt and a heavy thump, he plopped himself down on the seat next to us, and his companions took their positions leaning against the wall as if it was a matter of course.  He made a gesture in the air and there was immediately a foamy mug at his elbow.  He took a deep sip before uttering his first remarks in our direction although his gaze was fixed upon the farthest wall of the seedy tavern.  “You are prompt.  I like prompt.  But I like competent even more.  Are you that?”

            Without a word, Baggins produced the green bound volume that we had found in Bilbo’s books.  “The owner,” he mentioned in a raspy voice entirely unlike his own, “is no longer in a position to want this.  The other item may need a bit more time to uncover.  If you like, we could continue to pursue it.”

            Longleaf gave a noncommittal snarl, and picked up the volume.  But as he did so, I realized with a start that Baggins had handed it over upside down.  And that Longleaf had opened it in the same manner.  “Half a job completed,” he grunted, riffling through the pages as if searching for something.  “That ain’t enough to get paid on.”

            Baggins did not say a word until he had produced his pipe from his picket, opened up his pouch and stuffed it well, tamping it down and striking a fire with his flint.  “Thought this might be worth more that the weskit, shiny or no,” he observed mildly, after drawing a long drag.  “But if no, we’ll just be a-takin’ it back with us then.”  And before I could quite grasp how he had done it, the book was back in his possession, and he was on his feet, back against the wall in a defensive position.  It had only been the sudden pressure of his knee against mine, a moment prior to his actions, that had given me any warning, but it had been enough, and I was on my feet and at his side as well.

            Longleaf’s henchmen immediately stiffened up, but Longleaf stayed seated and gave us a cool look.  “Ain’t my place to say,” he gruffly muttered, after a nerve-wracking pause.  “Guess I’ll have to take you to him as wants it.”

            “Are we allowed to know who that’d be?” Baggins growled, still tense at my side.

            “My father,” Longleaf rose, and gave a dismissive nod to his hobbits.  “We leave at dawn.  The pair o’ye best be ready to ride.”

 

&&&&&

 

 

            I had a thousand questions as I laid myself down on the hard earthen floor and against the farthest wall of the common room, but remembered at the last moment, with the help of a quick stern glance from Baggins, that I was supposedly unable to ask them.  With a flash of a commiserating smile though, Baggins positioned himself behind me, as the other occupants of the room had since lost interest in us, and tucked a wiry arm about me under the blanket.

            “Well, now, my dearest Gamgee, let us review the facts as we now have them,” came the warm low voice in my ear as I pressed myself back against him as discreetly as possible.  “Longleaf is apparently not the mastermind of this plot, but rather his father is.  Clearly Longleaf would have no idea if the book we presented to him was the right one or not since, as I’m sure you noticed as well, he cannot read.  The weskit in question I vaguely remember as being a souvenir Bilbo brought back from his adventures.  It was made of mithril, I believe, a dwarfish metal, quite strong, according to Bilbo.  However I was sure that it had been given to the Mathom House, so if it isn’t there any longer, I’ve no idea who might have it.  If we are fortunate, though, the weskit will be negotiable.”

            “Tooks,” he mused after a short pause, during which I had tucked one foot under his.  “They do seem to be the key to this whole affair.  North Farthing is not that far off from Tuckborough, but it appears that Longleaf’s father wishes to keep his research into the Took family tree a secret.  What has he to gain from that, Gamgee?  That is the question, it would seem.  I suspect tomorrow may prove to be a very interesting day indeed.  I don’t think I need to remind you, my dear, to keep your eyes well open.  We may need to make a very hasty exit, and with our offering, if at all possible.  So we would do well to rest, I suppose.”

            And without another word, I heard his breathing turn slow and regular in sleep, and his arm about me relax.  It was quite awhile, unfortunately, before I could do likewise.

 

&&&&&

 

 

            The next morning was overcast and still quite chill, with a brisk wind and occasional snow flurries blowing across the road.  First breakfast had been negligible, and the likelihood of second breakfast occurring appeared to be slim.  But I didn’t mind since we were seeing the last, I fervently hoped, of the Rat and Squirrel.  Where we were headed, however, was a mystery, and if present company was any indication, the disreputable inn might well seem congenial in comparison.

            Unfortunately, Longleaf seemed to have very little confidence in us, and surrounded Baggins’ and my ponies with those of his men.  The morning was thus a boring ordeal, as we allowed our ponies to tromp through the snow in step with the others, and kept our heads tucked well into our hoods, for the winds of North Farthing have a bite such as no other.  But not even the dullest of hobbits can trudge for hours without feeling the need of a morsel to eat, and so it was with great thankfulness that I realized the company was making a break under the pines at the side of the road for elevenses.

            Alas, Longleaf and his hobbits appeared to be unacquainted with the restorative powers of a steaming pot of tea, so the fare consisted of a few bottles of only marginally passable cider and the remainder of some dried loaves of bread.  At least there was the virtue of it being a short pause, for the snow was starting to fall in earnest, and the sooner we reached our destination, no matter how dubious it might be, the better.

            Back on our ponies again, I noticed that the pine and cedar had become more and more prevalent, and the oak had disappeared entirely.  The snow was beginning to drift in piles against the trunks, and the dim light of the sun behind the clouds had started to fade when at last I saw rude wooden rail fences alongside of the road, and the gradual appearance of snowy open fields.  Some cattle stood huddled against the shelter of a small stand of pine, and I observed that they had the thicker coats of the northern species.  We were in a part of the Shire that was totally unfamiliar to me, if indeed we were still in the Shire at all, but there were, at least, signs of civilization in the vicinity.  I gave a quick fervent prayer that that might be the case, for my toes had disappeared a couple of miles back, as far as I could tell, and I was uncontrollably shivering in my saddle.  I very nearly let out a hearty cheer when the signs of a small village appeared.  Little Delving, I guessed, and little it certainly was.

            There had been no more than half a dozen wisps of smoke rising from the hills along our way in, indicating smials in the local hillsides, and the village proper seemed to consist of a shop of sorts, a blacksmith’s establishment, and of course, the local inn, rejoicing in the name of The Badger’s Delight.  I couldn’t help, I must confess, a small snort of amusement, and nodded towards Baggins as our party rode by the dimly lit establishment.  To my surprise, however, he gave the inn an intense scrutiny, and cocked a warning eyebrow in my direction.

            Once through the village, our ponies at last made their way off of the main road, and down a tree-lined lane, and with a great deal of relief, I soon spied a courtyard and a large barn ahead.  Our companions dismounted in the snowy yard, with groans and grunts aplenty, and Baggins and myself gratefully followed their example.  The resident hobbits immediately scurried forward, clad in thick woolen capes with hoods that obscured their faces, and silently took the ponies in hand, leading them off towards the barn.  I stamped about in the snow, trying to regain the feeling in my toes, and as I sheltered my brow from the snow that was now beginning to fall in thick clumps, I tried to determine what lay ahead and saw that a large hill loomed up before us.

            It was well covered with pine, not to mention snow, but telltale plumes of smoke rose from the stacks of stone that were scattered thickly about on its slopes, and I suddenly comprehended that we were standing before a very large, and extremely old, smial.  But Longleaf was in no mood to extend us any sort of welcome.  “Follow me,” he grunted.  “My father isn’t much for waiting.  And keep that old book close to you until he tells you otherwise.”  And with that curt warning, he shoved the massive old wooden door open, and we entered Raven Hall.

 


	3. Chapter 3

We found ourselves in a great hall, and my suspicions regarding the age of Raven Hall were immediately confirmed. As we entered, I had noticed the great wooden posts that held up the vast expanse above our heads. They had once been intricately carved, but a quick glance showed them to be riddled with wormholes, and the scores and nicks of time. The floor underfoot was grimy and strewn with sodden rushes and partially melted slush, but underneath all the muck were grey flagstones, silky with the wear of many years. A cavernous fireplace roared at the far end of the hall, with an immense crackling fire doing its best to warm the vast expanse of the shadowy chamber, and yet only partially succeeding. All of this was my first impression of Raven Hall, and yet it was immediately displaced in importance by the sight of the Master of this ancient smial.

Longleaf the elder, for I immediately assumed this imperious hobbit was he, rose stiffly from his massive chair near the fire, and then strode briskly towards us. Although he was obviously quite elderly, he nevertheless had a firm grip on his staff and an air of not suffering fools gladly. He was wrapped in a full length fur over elaborately embroidered clothing, and yet there was a hint of the mathom house over the whole ensemble. With an imperious nod of his head towards a side door, he muttered, in a rumbling voice, “We will discuss business in my chamber, Basil, not here. Fetch the parcel as well.”

Grateful that I had no more to do than to keep my mouth shut, I hastened to follow, keeping close to Baggins’ side. He had an ostensibly fearful air about himself, as he ducked his head in a subservient manner, clutching the volume tightly to himself all the while, but a quick side glance in my direction assured me that this was merely in keeping with his character, and in reality he was wary and ready to react to any danger in the matter of an instant.

We followed the Master of Raven Hall and his son through a carved doorway at the side of the massive hearth, and into a chilly, smaller book-lined room. “Really, Father,” Basil muttered, regarding the unlit fireplace of the disarrayed room with dismay as he tucked his hands under his arms. “A fire here as well would not be amiss.”

“Not good for the books,” his father murmured without a glance in his direction as he glared at us and pointed to the massive table in the center of the room. “Lay it here, hobbits. Let us see if it is that for which I search.”

Slowly, Baggins began to unwrap the volume from Bilbo’s library from its protective covering, and carefully laid it upon the table, opening the front cover in an inviting manner. The elder Longleaf gave an involuntary gasp and reverently turned a page. “Yes, indeed,” he breathed, and then turned to the end of the book, as if he knew exactly for what he was searching. It fell open onto the pages of family trees, and I could feel Baggins involuntarily stiffen at the sight. There was much he was not telling me regarding this whole matter, I suddenly realized, and it was more than past time we had the opportunity for some words together, alone.

 

&&&&&

 

That opportunity came a few hours later. Longleaf had given Baggins a piercing glance under his great shaggy brows, and, to my great surprise, allowed him to wrap the volume up and tuck it under his arm once again. “We have much to discuss, but the night is late, and I will not insist upon it at the expense of a weary traveler,” he had murmured, and then gave his son unexpected directions. “The guest room in the north tunnel for our visitors. Make sure the fire is lit, and a light meal is laid out for them.”

Basil dropped his jaw in astonishment, and began to protest, “But Father, they are but common thieves. . .” before he was quickly interrupted by his father’s scorn.

“Have you no eyes? Are you indeed such a fool? No matter,” he turned back to Baggins. “We shall meet at second breakfast tomorrow. There are so many questions. . . Well, that is for the morrow. And Basil, it would be best if you were here as well.” With not another look, he swept from the room, leaving us with our dumbfounded guide.

The room to which the younger Longleaf grudgingly led us was cold and had obviously not been used in quite a while, but the servants who followed Basil made quick work of lighting a fire, and producing quite a decent meal, and before very long, we found ourselves wrapped in blankets before a nicely crackling fire, polishing off some chicken and roast potatoes, and nursing mugs of a very respectable jug of hard cider.

“I am quite mystified, my dear,” I finally laid down my demolished drumstick on the plate and thoroughly licked my greasy fingers. “Possibly this all makes perfect sense to you, but I do wish you’d explain what has happened to us here.”

Baggins, who had finished eating long before me, and was sitting next to me staring into the flames with his hands steepled before him, gave a short bark of a laugh, and turned towards me, the warmth in his eyes kindling. “All in all, quite unexpected, wouldn’t you say, Gamgee?”

“I’m not sure if unexpected covers it, my dear, for I’m quite sure there was nothing at all regarding all of this that I possibly could have expected,” I had to smile back at him. “But I suspect that, as always, you are not nearly as amazed by this turn of events as am I.”

“Such as which little detail?” he prompted me, the corner of his mouth distinctly raised in wry amusement, a sight that never failed to cause a flutter of delight in my heart.

“Such as apparently it took but a single glance for Longleaf the elder to reject our carefully cultivated disguises of hobbits of fortune.”

“Indeed. But I would imagine he has had far more experience in sizing up the true nature of a hobbit than has his son.”

“I have no doubts as to that being the case. Rather a formidable sort, isn’t he?”

“Do not forget, Gamgee, that we are presently located in the farthest reaches of the Shire. I suspect Longleaf acts much as a law unto himself in these parts. And that might not be such a bad thing. The wilds are indeed wild past this point. All I know at this moment is that I should very much rather that the Master of Raven’s Hall have a favorable, rather than unfavorable, opinion of us.”

“I sense the son does not agree,” I could not help but mention.

“True enough, and that might prove to be a dangerous fact,” Baggins gave me a suddenly serious glance. “It would be well, I think, for you to continue your disguise. Longleaf the elder is not acknowledging you at all, you may have noticed, and if we can induce the son to do likewise, it would be very much to our advantage, I believe. Don’t forget, my dearest, I am counting on you to see what I don’t see and to hear what I don’t hear. They have no idea how very clever and observant you are, and it would be best if that remained the case.”

“Shall I use my powers of observation then?” I couldn’t help but respond, quickly draining my mug of the last dregs of the cider. “There does appear to be a bed in the corner of this room. It also appears to be unexpectedly serviceable, and the infernal damp chill that this room had initially seems to be fading at last. It would seem, in short, that we have an unexpected opportunity before us.”

With a happy laugh, he reached out to grasp my hand. “Succinct, as always, my dearest Sam. And such a delightful opportunity should never be overlooked.”

It did not take long at all, I must confess, before the fire was banked, our clothing was, for at least the moment, shed, and we took to warming the bed in the most entertaining way possible. “Oh, my Sam,” I heard his beloved voice whispering in my ear, much later, as I was finally drifting off into sleep. “Never such as you, my dearest. Never such as you.”

 

&&&&&

 

Our peaceful slumber did not however last long. I awoke to a sharp hiss near my ear and a foul-smelling cloth in my face. “My father may have plans for the pair of you, but I do not trust either of you in the least,” I heard Basil’s heated whisper, as I was abruptly glad we had decided to go to sleep fully clothed. That was my last thought, as the fumes grabbed me about the throat and coerced me into oblivion.

 

&&&&&

 

It was frigid cold, I slowly realized, as I unwillingly regained consciousness much later, and when I lifted my head and cocked a reluctant eye open, I found I was no longer in our room. I was propped up, instead, on a settle in the chilled book-lined room that I recognized as that of the library of Raven Hall. And indeed, it was the elder Longleaf himself who sat on a stool at my side, eying me coldly as I raised a shaking hand to my throbbing head. “At last,” he rumbled in a deep voice, giving me a distinctly disparaging glance. “A hard head, indeed.”

But the Master’s opinion mattered not at all to me as I suddenly remembered earlier events and quickly sat up, looking desperately about for any sign of Baggins, and with a shock, finding none.

“No, your friend, or cousin, have it as you will, is not here.” The old hobbit stood up with an impatient air. There was no one in the vast room but we two, I quickly realized, and I swung my legs to the floor and opened my mouth before suddenly remembering I was not to speak.

“Inconvenient, isn’t it?” and the wry smile that stole across his weathered face was not hard to miss. “Well then,” and he turned away, walking over to a high glass-paned window that looked out onto a dark stormy morning. “Here is my suggestion. I suspect that you might be able to find your voice, should you care to do so. I also assume that you would be most glad to find your companion again, as would, quite frankly, I. Would both those suppositions be correct, my good hobbit? I’m afraid I never quite got your name.”

“Gamgee,” I muttered, seeing no good in continuing this charade any longer. “Samwise Gamgee, as it were.”

“Gamgee?” he did not turn around, but rather ran my name over his tongue thoughtfully. “Not in the records, I’m afraid.”

“No doubt,” I couldn’t help but respond with some aspiration. “We are not an illustrious lot. What I would like to know, however, is where my companion is.”

“As I already mentioned, would I as well,” he turned around, his face impassive. “Did you see who took him?”

“Your son,” I couldn’t help but growl. “A fine welcome for strangers, indeed.”

The side of his mouth crooked up a little higher at my distinctly impolite words. “Those who arrive in the guise of common thieves can hardly hope for better,” he mildly pointed out. “One might suspect the pair of you were giving yourselves airs as gentlehobbits.”

“I’d be no gentlehobbit,” I mumbled, suddenly realizing I was perhaps giving away too much.

“Yes, I don’t think you are,” he gave me a piercing glance, “but your companion is an entirely another matter altogether, isn’t he? I’ve your name now, what is his?”

“You’d have to askin’ him.” I gave him a wary look, unhappily aware that I had probably already said too much, and desperately wishing that Baggins were at my side. We had never planned this far ahead, and I was unmistakably floundering.

He gave a short mirthless laugh, and turned back to the window. Silence fell for several minutes as I debated with myself on exactly how much I should reveal to this curious hobbit. But there had been something in his eyes that made me think he was an entirely a different sort of hobbit than was his son, and I suddenly blurted out, before I could think twice about it, “Frodo Baggins. His name is Frodo Baggins.”

He whirled around and stared intently at me. “I thought as much,” he murmured as much to himself as me. “A Took, but not in name. Baggins, indeed. And Frodo Baggins, eh?”

I nodded, not at all sure of what else to say.

“Then perhaps, just possibly, perhaps,” but he cut himself off before I could ask what he meant. He turned away from me then, and walked back to the window.

“The old lodge, I suspect. That’s where Basil would have taken him. It was always his favorite hideout as a fauntling, and Basil, I regret to say, has not gained much in the way of imagination over the years.” He spun around quickly and eyed me intently. “I’m an old hobbit, Gamgee, as you have no doubt noticed. There isn’t that much time left. Not for me, nor for the Shire, for that matter. My son does not understand. A lamentable lack of vision, I’m afraid. But your companion is he of which the old prophecy speaks, I have no doubt of that, and time grows short.”

“Prophecy?” I managed to murmur, watching him warily.

“It’s all in the book,” he gave an impatient wave, “but there’s no time for that now. I’ll give you a couple of my most trusted hobbits. They can take you to the old lodge. It will be up to you to extract Frodo Baggins from my son. Should you succeed, I would expect to see the both of you again. Indeed, it is imperative that I do. Should you not succeed, well, I suppose it does not matter very much then, does it?”

And with that cryptic remark, we were suddenly joined by two others. A pair of weathered and taciturn hobbits who had quickly entered the room was introduced curtly as Tom and Will, and the three of us were dismissed with the imperious command to retrieve Baggins from the younger Longleaf before he ended up in over his foolish head. The nearly stifled sigh that issued from, I noticed, the taller of the two indicated that this was probably not an unfamiliar directive. I decided to pursue that clue as I followed the pair’s long strides down a roughly timbered hallway that, as indicated from the intensifying draft, led outside.

“Lad is a handful, eh?” I mentioned tentatively, scurrying to keep up with them.

“Said a mouthful, stranger,” snarled one of them, not looking back.

His companion gave a grunt. “Not the way I was a’thinkin’ of spendin’ the morning,” he growled in agreement. “But it ain’t the first time we’ve had to save Himself’s scrawny hide.”

I must admit to being taken aback at the way they freely expressed their sentiments to a perfect stranger before I realized that I may as well have been a fly on the wall for all the interest they were taking in me. “Is it far to this lodge?” I asked, wrapping my cloak as tightly as I could about myself as we passed through a great wooden door out into the grey frosty air.

“Farther than it needs to be, no mistake about that,” Tom (or so at least I thought) gave me an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Best be ready to defend yourself, hobbit. Himself never takes too kindly to us stopping by and interfering with his fun. At least he don’t dare hurt us.”

Not caring at all for the implication to these dark words, I set myself to the task of keeping up with the burly hobbits, with only the intermittent glimmer of a weak cloud-shrouded sun to go by, as they stomped their way through the now thickly falling snow.

 

&&&&&&

 

The old lodge, as I found, was an excellent hideout, if that was what one was after. The entrance was nicely covered by a stand of thick juniper, and the hill into which it was dug was very nearly completely hidden in the thickly growing pine and spruce. With the addition of a by now thick coating of snow, I knew I’d have never seen it on my own. But my companions were as familiar, seemingly, with this lair as their very own smials, as they nonchalantly pushed branches aside, knocked a rock away, and glared at the door thus revealed.

“Master Longleaf, none of your tricks now,” Tom called out, annoyance unmistakable in his voice. “ ‘Tis the Master as sent us, so there’s no sense a-playin’ a dodge on us.”

There was no response to this announcement, and after waiting several minutes, Tom gave both an aggravated huff and a hearty kick to the door. Will followed with a kick of his own, and the weathered door grudgingly creaked open. A dark room was revealed, but Tom quickly brought a tinder box from his pocket, and lit the lantern that Will instantly held before him. “Coals still glowing,” he nodded towards the stone fireplace. “Ain’t been gone long.”

“The river, you think?” Will frowned.

“And on a day like this?” Tom sighed. “Like as not. Lad has no sense, noways.”

“The river?” I couldn’t help but squeak. “Is it a largish one?” There’s nothing I mind more, in all this world, than fast-moving water. Matters had suddenly become much more grim.

“Well, it would be at that,” Will unmistakably smirked at my expression. “’Course, the ice slows the falls down summat.”

“Falls,” I murmured, feeling the ice start to run in my veins as well. However, it was Baggins we were after, I quickly remembered. “My fault,” I straightened my back and strengthened my voice. “I just didn’t remember seeing it on the map, that’s all. Carry on.”

“That’s my brave hobbit,” Tom laughed, giving me a hearty thump on the back. “There’ll be a hot mug or two waiting for us at the end, so all’s well, eh, lad?”

However I distinctly heard him mutter something disparaging regarding East Farthing folk, as I followed the both of them out the smial.

 

&&&&&

 

The sides of the river, as it tumbled from the north, were treacherous and steep. Icy boulders lined the riverbanks, and only the center of the river still moved free, falling down the hillsides with a frosty and misty splash on snow-covered stones. There was no sign of any living creature in that white and frozen landscape, and my spirits fell. I had rarely found myself, when accompanying Frodo on some case or another, entirely on my own, and I could not help the plummet of my morale, the sinking feeling that I was once more in entirely over my head, and the very real yearning to have my cherished Baggins at my side once again.

My companions were, however, of quite another frame of mind, and reined their ponies in at the side of the river with an annoyed grunt. “Lot of pother over naught, if you’d be askin’ me,” I heard Tom mutter to his companion. “What’d he be a’doin’ with the hobbit, anyways? Once the young master’s toes be frozen but good, he’d be a-sneakin’ in the back tunnel, as always. Not seein’ why we must be getting’ frost-bite on a fool’s errand.”

With a sinking feeling, I realized that my companions were not as motivated as was I regarding our assigned mission. It was only then that a sudden surge of rebellion ran through me. Why should my fate and that of Baggins be at the mercy of this backcountry lot? I still had no idea what this nonsense regarding the book was all about, but there was abruptly no doubt in my mind that none of this was worth the annoyance of the both of us being here, far from our snug Bag End. Baggins could explain it all to me over a pipe, our toes stuck out to toast before the study fire, but until then, I had no patience for anyone and anything else that might stand in the way of that goal.

“Well, there’s no need for the pair of you to be catching a chill out on such a foul day as this,” I announced crisply, and watched as the two retainers turned around with surprise clearly written on their countenances. “Just tell me where he’s most likely to hide out, and where that back tunnel begins, and the both of you may head back for a pint. I’ll take care of the matter, never fear.”

The two retainers exchanged a quick glance in which astonishment was clearly suddenly combined with hope, and then Will, as the elder of the pair, turned to me decisively. “The other side of the river, about ten minutes’ walk past this point,” he indicated with a quick sweep of his hand. “The river takes a bend, and there’s a pair of tall fir side by side. ‘Tis a nice bit of cave, between the two, and it’s there as Himself likes to hide out, betimes. It’s in the back o’that you’ll find a tunnel as leads down under the very river itself, which ends up in the back tunnels of the Longleaf smials.”

I nodded briskly. “Much obliged. Stand me a mug, this evening, if you see me, and we’ll call it square.”

With a nod and, at least on the part of Tom, a quick touch of the brim of his cap, the pair of them quickly vanished back into the snowy morning, and I stared ahead. What I had gotten myself into, I had no idea. I sincerely hoped, though, that Baggins would have occasion to take me thoroughly to task upon the matter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The affair at Raven Hall concludes, but Sam finds himself with more questions. Fortunately, Frodo gives the right response.

It was only after I stared at the tumbling river and its icy banks that it suddenly stuck me that crossing this river, as directed, might not be all that easy. There was no indication of any sort of a boat or raft, and indeed, no sign that any such contraption even crossed here. A stifled curse crossed my lips, I must admit, as I stared across the water in frustration. Swimming was not in the slightest an option, at least not for myself, but then the more I thought upon it, the less likely it seemed that Ted and Will were the swimming sort, likewise. That meant that there must be another method, and I set myself to the task of discovering what it might be.  
  
It was a scuffled patch of snow, on the opposite bank, that gave me the first clue. Glancing about, as the snow continued to fall all about me, I noticed an exceptionally sturdy hemlock casting its branches over the river directly ahead of me. And high in those branches, very nearly completely covered in snow by this time, was a stout rope.  
  
One end of it, on the other side of the river, was coiled neatly about a lower branch. And the other? I let my eye follow it, winding in and out of the branches, until I finally saw the end on this side of the river. It was tucked into the branches of a neighboring pine, but with not much of a stretch could be readily brought within reach. Apparently the river could be crossed with a reliance on this contrivance and a good running leap.  
  
Every sort of dire misfortunate result immediately came to mind, but I resolutely shut my eyes for a moment and attempted to calm myself. There really was no question to be considered. If Baggins was on the other side of the river, then that is where I must go. There was simply no other conclusion. And before I could think any more on the matter, I scrambled up the snowy bank, reached out and tugged at the rope, and with the tightest possible grip, flung myself out over the river.  
  
The icy spray bit my face as I tried my best to shut out the roar below me, and my toes quickly touched the rocky bank on the far side of the river. But the rocks were iced over and my toes could find no purchase, try as they might. With a fearful heart, I felt myself swing back out over the river again, and knew that I had lost momentum. It was this time or never, I realized, as I flung myself wildly back towards the far bank again, and with a last mighty effort, let go of the rope and threw myself at the rocks.  
  
I fell heavily upon the frozen stone and desperately scrambled far enough forward that I no longer felt myself slipping back into the river, and then lay for a moment, panting heavily. How I had gotten myself into this situation was, at this moment, a dull astonishment to me, but then I thought of my dearest friend. Longleaf the younger was clearly not a rational sort. I had no idea what his plans for Baggins were, but there was no doubt but they would not be pleasant, and there was only myself to see that they were not carried through. And so I dragged myself up, rapidly surveyed the damage on my hands and legs, finding that everything was still operational, and set off down the snowy bank that lay along this side of the river as fast as I could manage.  
  
The pair of fir soon came into view, just as described. There was a large boulder between them, domed with snow, but I caught sight of a dark shadow along the side facing me. Careful now, I slowed down and inched my way to what was indeed a dark slit of an opening into the hill alongside of the path. I peered inside with all possible stealth, but there was no point to it. There was indeed a cave behind the boulder, but it was completely dark.  
  
So, then, they must have gone ahead, I told myself stoutly, to stave off the disappointment. There must be a tunnel somewhere within, and that is where Baggins and his captor had gone. And that is what I had to find. But I had no light, nor any means of making one. The cave was inky dark, but the only alternative was to attempt to swing myself back across the river again, and that was a choice I dared not make. So the cave it was.  
  
Stretching my hands out before me, I started picking my way along the cave wall. But the cave was not a normal semicircle, and before long the damp rock walls twisted and turned about, and I had lost all sight of the entrance and the dim white light of the outside world. Well, if there wasn’t a tunnel, I thought desperately to myself, what was the worst that could happen? I’d simply feel my way about the entire cave and come out where I’d begun.  
  
That comforting thought quickly ebbed as my ears caught the sound of the slightest rustle, not far from me. Merely dry leaves blowing about, I told myself firmly. Perhaps mice. But the noise repeated, a bit more loudly, and my toes encountered increasing dampness, with a boggy sort of feel to it.  
  
I suddenly had the sensation that I was encroaching on some creature’s home, and that that creature was not at all pleased about it. Desperately holding on to any scrap of courage that was left to me, I pushed on a little farther, and was greeted, all at once, by a cold gust hitting my face. It took a moment or two to comprehend the reason, but then my spirits were at last lifted up. It was a draught, a blessed draught, and that could only mean one thing. I was at the entrance to the tunnel.  
  
  


&&&&&

  
  
  
  
The voice grew louder as the light strengthened. It was the voice of a bully, loud and unmistakably annoyed, and I suddenly knew with a rush of hope that Baggins must be here as well. “You’re connected with that book and don’t tell me otherwise,” Longleaf, for there was no doubt but that it was he who spoke, barked out.  
  
Cautiously, I sidled with my back to the earthen wall and drew nearer the open doorway. Longleaf came into view, lit by a torch stuck into the wall of the roughly hollowed room. His expression was as angry as his voice had promised, and he stood glaring, with his hands on his hips. Inching a little closer, I peered into the room. It was Baggins, of course, to whom he was speaking, roped to a chair, and with a rag stuck in his mouth. Clearly Longleaf was not expecting a response.  
  
It was only then that I realized what one of Longleaf’s hands held, a small but gleaming blade. With a sudden move, as quick as thought, he stuck out, leaving an open gash on Baggins’ cheek. I choked back a cry, knowing immediately that my assistance must come as a surprise to be of any use at all. Creeping a little closer, I glanced further into the room. It appeared as if Longleaf was alone.  
  
“Not only that, but it seems as though not only are you the most celebrated and illustrious Took, whatever other names you may give yourself as well, but that you also possess all manner of fairie treasure, such as silvery weskits. And yet you come here, to my besotted father, to tease him with another mouldering volume of half-witted lies and fancies. Is there any reason, Master Took, that I should be happy to entertain you? No, I’m afraid if there is, it entirely escapes me.” The blade in his hand was up again, as he swaggered toward his captive. That focus, however, gave me the opportunity to slip in the room behind him.  
  
It was only because I knew Baggins as well as I did that I caught the slightest flicker of his eyes in my direction. With a loud groan, he immediately caught Longleaf’s attention, and shook his head in what appeared to be a desperate plea.  
  
“Ah, then,” crowed Longleaf, approaching him with a taunting wave of the blade. “You don’t like that much, now do you.”  
  
“And I must state that I don’t care for it much, myself,” I suddenly announced crisply, and Longleaf whirled around to face me in shock, the knife held out menacingly before him.  
  
But I moved threateningly towards him, before he had a chance to assess the situation, and that gave Baggins the chance for which he’d been waiting. With a sudden thrust of his body, he sent himself and the chair crashing to the floor, bowling Longleaf over in the process. Before the villain could regain his footing, I threw myself at him, snatching the blade out of his hand. With a howl of throttled rage, he scrambled up and rushed past me, down the hall, and out of sight. I let him go without another thought, and immediately applied the blade to the ropes that held Baggins.  
  
“Fortuitous timing, my dearest friend,” he murmured with a grateful quick clasp of my shoulder as he scrambled to his feet, “but we must follow Longleaf. There’s no knowing what he might do in his present maddened state.”  
  
With a brief nod, I assented, and we took to our heels down the shadowy earthen corridor, I prudently snapping Longleaf’s blade shut and thrusting it in my trouser pocket.  
  
  


&&&&&

  
  
  
  
The corridor soon changed its previous rustic nature, and now there were flagstones under our feet, and the occasional torch held in a sconce high on the walls. Doors, of stout oak, some with great padlocks on them, but all shut tight, began to appear. Ravens’ Hall was indeed an ancient smial, but more to the point, it struck me as we ran after the heir, that it was very nearly more a fortress than a smial. We could hear Longleaf ahead of us by his heavy footsteps, which was a fortunate thing, for we suddenly found ourselves in a wood-paneled cul de sac, with no sign of the hobbit whom we pursued. “He must have been just ahead of us,” Baggins growled, coming to a sudden stop. “It’s one of these panels, to be sure, but which and how?”  
  
It was only then I noticed the small tuft of fur protruding from the side of a wooden panel set into the wall. “There, Baggins!” I exclaimed, pointing to it in excitement. “See there? From his robe.”  
  
“Excellent, Gamgee!” Baggins cried in triumph. “He shall not escape us now.” And at once he was at the panel with his ear to it, tapping it about the edges, until he gave a grunt of satisfaction and a sharp rap against the upper right corner of the panel. With a slight click, it swung open, and we found ourselves once more in the great library of Ravens’ Hall. And facing us was the elder Longleaf, and his son behind him, with a long knife at his father’s throat.  
  
  


&&&&&

  
  
  
  
There was a moment of silence, all of us frozen in our places, before Baggins stepped forward. “Basil Longleaf,” he pronounced in a stern voice, quite unlike his ordinary tones. “Your quarrel is with no one here other than me. Put down the knife.”  
  
Basil stood without moving and said nothing, his eyes only on Baggins, until his father slowly and gently reached up to grasp the arm which held the weapon.  
  
“This has naught to do with you, lad, and very little with me,” the elder Longleaf’s deep voice rumbled. “Our time has done, and our world must become smaller, more tame. But look you now, lad. Did I not tell you?”  
  
In bewilderment, I followed their gaze and turned to look at Baggins as well. But my friend’s face, that face I thought I knew so well, so intimately, was different somehow. Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight as it sprang up in the ancient stone hearth. Perhaps it was the glow from the torches overhead, but he was suddenly someone I did not know, his features sharp and golden, the cut on his cheek dark in the flickering light. And I was suddenly reminded of tales I had been told, as a child, of Bullroarer Took, stories of heroism and sacrifice, and noble deeds seen no more in this ordinary world of ours. Baggins, indeed, I had always thought him, but Took he was as well, a direct descendant of the most illustrious line of hobbits the Shire had ever known.  
  
“I have read you the tales I had, my son,” the deep voice continued as the elder Longleaf firmed his hold upon his son’s arm. The knife clattered uselessly to the ground, but none of us heeded it in the least. “You knew my thoughts, though you did not agree. But there is no question now, is there? And our beloved Shire is to soon find itself in dire times. It would be well not to uselessly batten against what must be, my son.”  
  
To my astonishment, Basil lowered his eyes at his father’s words, and with what was unmistakably an anguished sob, fled the room.  
  
  


&&&&&

  
  
  
  
Our two ponies quietly trudged through the silently falling snow, as I wracked my brain to make any sense of the events that had just occurred in that ancient smial. “He gave you back the book then, after all of that?” I asked Baggins suddenly, still more than a little confused at what had taken place.  
  
“Yes,” he replied quietly, his back straight just ahead on me. “It seems as though he felt no more need to retain it. The information he had sought from it was now his.”  
  
And if that wasn’t just it, I knew in an instant. Whatever lay concealed in this musty volume was now known to both Longleafs and, I had to concede, to Baggins himself. I was distinctly more in the dark, but was beginning to suspect. It was not a theory that induced comfort, indeed, I was beginning to feel the pangs of trepidation and some great unknown fear. But what could I say? If my surmises were to be proven correct, then there was nothing for it but to swallow my fears, as best I might, and be ready for what might come.  
  
It was a long, cold, and silent ride back to Bag End.  
  
  


&&&&&

  
  
  
  
I took to scouring that dusty volume, once we were back at Bag End, every spare moment I had. Baggins said nothing, but I knew he was waiting for me to find, or not find, whatever was there to be found. And it was a fair, frigid morning when I did so.  
  
It was tucked away at the end of an account of what was known of the last days of the Men of Westernesse. A scrap of verse, doggerel, really, but as I read it, my blood suddenly ran cold.  
  
  


__The end will come as all ends must__  
The mightiest of halls ever crumble to dust.  
A Took he was, come from the East  
Who founded the Shire, our land of peace.  
And when the trouble comes to hand,  
And the shadow creeps across the land.  
The Raven will search, and there will come  
One known but to few, only to some.  
Took once more, both tall and fair,  
To save the Shire and all who dwell there.  
But he will always walk alone,  
And nevermore call the fair fields home.

  
  
  
  
  


&&&&&

  
  
  
  
I was, I must admit, more than a little single-minded that dark chill night, in our great feather bed. It was well past midnight when I at last fit myself for sleep next to his lithe form with a weary sigh. Baggins said nothing, but the soft hum he made as his hand lightly stoked my cheek, and the manner in which his arm strengthened its grip about me, let me know immediately that he understood.  
  
“Don’t let it fret you, dearest,” he murmured, drawing his fingers slowly about my ear and through my curls. “I suspect you found that for which the Lord of Raven Hall also searched. But I must insist that words on a page cannot dictate one’s life.”  
  
“There was a time when I came so very close to having an ordinary life, you know,” he continued quietly, cradling my cheek with a lean hand. “Certainly, if Peony Overhill had had her way, I’d currently be married with a host of fauntlings about the place and, I suspect, would have been a trifle stouter about the waist. But, to her dismay, it never quite took, and I found myself, especially after Bilbo left, withdrawing from the life about me, lost in my books and dreams. Certainly, I walked alone then, and it seemed as if that would be the way of it.”  
  
“But you did not let me lose myself completely, my dearest Sam. Even in my loneliest moments, I knew I had but to reach out to you, and you would be there to help me in whatever way you could. And even though I must admit I never suspected the turn events would take, and even though I still marvel at how long it took me to see what happiness lay waiting for me, life led me at last to something far from ordinary, and so very much better. In other words, you. And whatever might follow from the choices I’ve made, you must know that I’ve followed my heart, and you are all the best there is in me.”  
  
“Indeed, my beloved Samwise,” he continued, his voice becoming softer and nearly dreamy, as his hand continued its gentle administrations, “there are those days when I am tempted to see what lies beyond the next hill and, if some day we should venture out of the Shire, it would not trouble me in the least. But only if you would come with me, my Sam. Otherwise, whatever events that musty volume may decree will never happen. For I will never find happiness, never know contentment, unless it is with you. No more am I the hobbit who walks ever alone, and never will be again, I promise you, as long as you will have me.”  
  
I must have choked back a sob at this point, for his bewitching mouth was suddenly on mine, and his arms were holding me tight. I clung to him, finding all my fears and worries gradually easing at his touch, his caress, the deep joy of feeling his body pressed against mine.  
  
“Never doubt me, my love,” his soft tones were deep and fervent, as I fell into exhausted sleep. “Never fear what may come, for whatever it may be, it will come to the both of us, together.”


End file.
